


Visitation

by Vivian Moon (vivian_moon)



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel 616, Thor (Comics)
Genre: Bondage, Canon Genderbending, Community: marvelkink-v2, F/M, Female Loki, Other, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:31:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1528064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivian_moon/pseuds/Vivian%20Moon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: Female!Loki/college-aged!Doom. Quite frankly I can't think of a plausible way to get them together, but I like the idea of how enthralled Doom would be with her incredible power and how amused she'd be at his youth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visitation

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another old kink meme fill.

Victor slammed back to his study-bedroom in a foul mood. Delays, yet more delays! Why must he be surrounded by these imbeciles?

If he could only work at his own pace, the machine would have been ready months ago. But instead, he was constantly beset by interruptions; lectures he was forced to attend, class projects that insulted his intelligence, repeated demands from the military to explain his inventions. And everywhere he went _Richards_ followed. His deluded attempts to make friends had gone on so long Victor was beginning to think he must have some kind of social disorder. Or a crush.

Nauseating thought. Victor was grateful to close the bedroom door, a thin but welcome barrier against the world of idiocy outside.

Until some off-note in the atmosphere alerted him, and he spun to find that he wasn't alone.

There was a woman on his bed.

Not, admittedly, a completely implausible state of affairs. Victor had been stalked by numerous annoying females who seemed to take his every attempt to discourage them as a sign of affection. Some of them were almost as persistent as Richards, and he wouldn't have put it past them to bribe or force their way into his quarters. But this was no giggling girl, nor indeed any woman that he'd ever seen before.

_This_ woman, Victor would have remembered.

She was beautiful, in a dark and wild way far different from the perky artificial 'cute' prized in America. Her long black hair fanned out over the papers that he'd left strewn on the bed, and her eyes glittered deep green. She wore a dark silky dress cut just modestly enough to be enticing, and a most peculiar headdress with curved horns.

More fascinating than any of that, however, was the aura of raw power he could feel flickering around her. Not since the long-ago presence of his mother had he been near someone who radiated so much magic.

"At last, the young lord returns to his bedchamber," she said. "I was beginning to feel quite neglected." There was an edge of sardonic mockery to her tone that made him bridle, even though he wasn't sure it was directed at him. Her accent was hard to place, but it rang of somewhere closer to home than the bland drawl of this godforsaken country - some part of Scandinavia, perhaps? She had the pale skin and Nordic features, if not the stereotypical blonde hair.

"Who are you?" Victor asked with a sharp scowl. He didn't need to ask how she'd got in; the limited magical protections that were all he'd been able to place without drawing attention would hardly keep out one such as her.

Instead of answering, she cocked her head to one side, regarding him over folded hands. "They said you were a handsome boy," she said, arching an eyebrow. "I see they did not lie."

Again, that smirking tone that made it hard to tell if her words were sincere or a joke at his expense. "What do you want here?" Victor demanded.

"Why, the pleasure of your company, of course." The woman gave a languorous stretch. The draped neckline of her dress dipped low enough to give him quite a view, and he swallowed. It was easy to suppress his baser instincts in the face of shallow American girls, but this was an altogether different breed of temptation.

Victor narrowed his eyes. "Who sent you to me?" He had enemies and allies both who might think a woman in his bed could sway him, but none with the sophistication to choose one such as this.

"Why, no one," she said, shrugging elegantly as she lounged back on the bed. "I merely wished to see the face of the man I have learned so much about, yet never looked upon."

"Learned from whom?" he said, stepping closer as she gazed up at the ceiling.

She laughed, a rich and rolling sound that shivered down his spine - and stroked other parts to attention despite his rigid self-control. "So many questions," she said mock-chidingly. She gave a challenging smile. "Surely, even young as you are, you must know by now that knowledge of that sort is never free."

The repeated references to his youth pricked at him, and Victor glowered. "Then what would you have of me in exchange?" he said suspiciously.

She spread her arms, and the wrapped dress fell open, exposing her in all her glorious nakedess. "Impress me," she suggested with an arch look.

A lesser man might bolt from such a challenge, issued as it was from one whose very brazenness suggested a much greater experience in these particular arts than he. But certain of his magical texts had been... highly instructive - and never could it be said that Victor Von Doom would not rise to any occasion.

Not taking his eyes off hers, he bent low and placed a kiss on her pale stomach. She made a throaty noise and wriggled, shameless as a cat. Her skin was oddly cool against his lips, untouched by foreign perfumes or powders; she tasted only, deliciously, of woman - and of magic. It crackled against his tongue like swallowing sparks.

He wanted more. He wanted- Ah, but there was pleasure in anticipation, too, so he trailed kisses upwards, travelling up the bed and over her body until they were face to face. He dipped his head to place the lightest of kisses on her cool lips and then drew back, raising a challenging eyebrow of his own. Call him a boy, would she? She would see that Victor Von Doom had the self-control of any man.

"Mm. Delightful," she said. She patted his cheek. "But I feel things here are a little... out of balance. And really, where is the fun in that?" She smiled guilelessly.

Her fingers curved, nails just a fraction away from scratching, and then she flipped their positions over with a startling burst of strength. She bent her head low, as if to return his kiss - and instead, whispered a word of power close to his ear. His shirt burst open, becoming a tangle of writhing ropes that swiftly bound his wrists to the head of the bed. He struggled to rise, but she held him pinned down with her body.

It was not, truth be told, a wholly unpleasant position, but it was also not one he'd agreed to. "Let me loose!" he demanded.

She bent down to meet his eyes with a teasing smirk. "Make me," she said, her eyes gleaming with mirth. She was close enough that he could have fought despite his tied hands, tried to bite, to headbutt, cast magic of his own.

Instead he kissed her, savagely, giving no quarter and conceding no disadvantage. Tied up, pinned down, it made no difference. Victor Von Doom was always the master.

She tore his trousers open with carelessly strong hands, and it took everything he had not to gasp as her slick heat enveloped him. There was no gentleness here, and no possibility he could have given it as she bucked against him. His booted feet dug furrows in the covers and his hands strained in the rope ties, fighting for a control he refused to relinquish. She rode him with inhuman strength and a grin of devilish glee that only made him fight her all the harder, gritting his teeth and tensing his muscles as he struggled not to yield.

He would not yield to her. But he couldn't escape from yielding to biology. The blaze of pleasure pulsed through him, and he couldn't suppress the way his hips jerked or the cry that left his lips - but he could make it a snarl of defiance and fury, and keep his eyes locked on hers all the while, conceding nothing.

She laughed and clapped her hands in delight as she rose from him. Victor scowled all the harder to hide his dismay at the loss.

"Oh, my," she said. She trailed her fingers across his cheek, and her hands were just as cold as they had been in the beginning. "What a spirited little firecracker you are. No wonder you'll grow up to become-" She made an exaggerated face of dismay and hushed herself with a finger to her lips. "Oh, but that would be telling, wouldn't it?"

"Who are you?" Victor asked again, albeit more resignedly than he might have done a few minutes ago. He was really feeling quite remarkably relaxed.

She smirked. "Let's just say I have... a certain interest in your future."

"And will I be seeing you again?" he asked, with an air of lazy indifference.

"Oh, most definitely." She let out uproarious laughter at some untold private joke, and plucked her silken robe from where it had pooled on the carpet. As she cast it around herself, shadow swept across the room - and after it vanished, so had she.

Victor took stock of his situation, and noted that he was still tied to the bed, in need of a new pair of trousers, and in what was really rather a compromising position should anyone enter the room.

He couldn't really bring himself to care.


End file.
